


...and Assumptions

by LeviathanHomeCooking



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Arranged Relationship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, RumRollins Week2020, Slut Shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeviathanHomeCooking/pseuds/LeviathanHomeCooking
Summary: Brock went through a lot of alphas before Jack, and they never got far.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	...and Assumptions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for[ RumRollins Week 2020](https://rumrollinsweek.tumblr.com/tagged/rumrollinsweek2020) . Prompt: May 25th (Mon): **Apology** / Angst

Jack Rollins is an enigma. 

It’s been six months since he and Jack had been paired up. Not once had Jack made a pass at him, not once had he tried to seduce him or take him by force, never tried to kiss him or bite him. The last one being the most controversial. 

Four months and they still didn’t have bond marks, which is now a hot topic of gossip around the base. Wherever they go they get amused whispering from colleagues and reproaching glares from senior officials.

If it bothers Jack, he doesn’t express it. In fact, he seems completely uninterested in anything even remotely related to the omega. They live completely separate lives. 

Sure, at the beginning Brock threatened him into staying away, but that never stopped his previous match from trying to force himself on Brock. The alpha got stabbed in the thigh for it, which was unfortunate because Brock was aiming for his dick. 

Brock went through _a lot_ of alphas before Jack, and they never got far. That is why his squad captain had spent hours negotiating with the Bonding Committee—which Brock is still astonished is _a thing_. A whole committee of senior officers and administrators playing matchmaker for their soldiers, comparing temperament, interests, IQ, blood types, star signs, humors, auras or whatever bullshit they do to decide which unfortunate souls are going to be stuck together.

Despite his pickiness, he was rejected by all of his first choices for potential mates. _Apparently_ Brock is the farthest thing from the ideal omega: burly, assertive, talkative, stubborn, loud. He’d have stepped all over those wimpy alphas he picked out, just the way he wanted it. He has no desire to be in a relationship or have some cocky alpha try to boss him around, but if he wants to climb the hierarchy he’s got to play ball. 

So the Committee took it upon themselves to find a match for him, with disastrous results. Brock went through so many alphas, each one more aggressive than the last. The Committee seems to be under the impression that what they need is a big, strong alpha to put Brock in his place. 

Well, he certainly welcomes the challenge. 

So when Bernhardt, his squad captain, handed him Jack’s file, Brock scoffed. 

In bold font it read:

**ROLLINS, JACK**

**ALPHA**

**DOB: 01-05-1976**

**HEIGHT: 6 FT 2 IN**

**EYE COLOR: GREEN**

The guy is younger than him by seven years, and taller by almost half a foot. There’s a picture as well, and the guy looks stern and serious. Another young, macho alpha that probably thinks he’s hot shit.

“The committee said that this is the last one. No more do-overs.” Bernhardt had warned him.

“Well I hope that this one behaves himself, then.” Brock shrugged him off. 

“Rumlow, if you don’t find a mate there will be consequences. The brass isn’t just gonna let an unbonded omega into the higher ranks.” Bernhardt says, deadly serious. “I suggest you make it work.”

Bernhardt has been good to him, he’s just looking out for Brock’s interests, so he can’t complain. At least not to his face.

Brock and Jack’s first night together, Brock had made a show of purposely separating their beds, which were just two normal sized cots pressed against each other in the illusion of a single bed, a habit that many combat couples are fond of doing. 

Jack hadn’t said anything, only raised a mildly curious brow. 

Brock comes and goes as he pleases, and Jack lets him. He does his own thing too, whatever that is. Brock really isn’t around much to know.

While typically Brock’s free time is spent hanging out with his friends on base or at the local bar shooting pool and dancing, he always comes back to Jack either asleep or reading in bed. Who will give him a cool, assessing glance before returning to his book. Brock hasn’t learned to decipher his arsenal of vague expressions yet, so he doesn’t know if it’s a look of amusement or judgement. 

Brock wonders if he doesn't like omegas, which would be a shame because he’s actually quite handsome. He’s big with long limbs, strong jaw, suave hair, and a hairy chest. He doesn’t give off aggressive vibes or tension like many alphas around the base do, but he’s also no shrinking violet. Brock sees him glaring when he overhears the nasty gossip directed at them, and the gossipers get real quiet when Jack directs that glare towards them. The dude’s got a mean resting bitch-face.

Brock wonders if Jack just finds him unattractive. Which is...fine, he supposes. That’s what he wanted, right? To be free to do his own thing? And he can do it all he wants now.

Brock is used to being gawked at and the subject of vicious rumor mills, so it’s business as usual. That is, until Bernhardt pulls him aside and reprimands him. 

_You’re not taking this seriously_ , he says. 

_You need to be more discreet_ , he says. 

_You need to at least pretend things are going well_ , he says.

So later that night, Brock begrudgingly pushes their beds back together. Privacy is still lacking within the couples’ dormitory, even if they do have a room to themselves, so he needs to cover all the bases. 

Brock stubbornly does not look at Jack, who is reading, while he settles in early for bed. He purposely faces away from his partner. 

“I’m guessing you got reprimanded?” Jack asks. 

“What? Is it unusual to sleep next to my mate?” Brock asks sardonically, “How’d you know anyway? Were the omega cadets talking again?” 

“No. I got reprimanded too.”

Brock turns his head to look at him. It never occurred to him that Jack would be scolded for such a thing, after all _Brock_ is the stubborn omega that refuses to fall in line. But then again, alphas are held responsible for their omega’s behavior, even if they have no control over it.

“Besides, you made it abundantly clear you don’t like me.” Jack sounds resentful when he says it. “That you’d rather have anyone else but me.”

Brock turns over to look at him more directly. A grown man shouldn’t look that pouty. “Anyone else? The fuck does that mean?” Brock asks.

“I’m not dumb, Brock. I know you’re always going out to bars and hanging around alphas.”

“So? Those are my _friends_. And maybe some strangers I just felt like dancin’ with. I didn’t fuck any of ‘em.”

Jack snorts. “Yeah right.” Jack’s tone implies something Brock has heard time and time again. It brings to mind familiar shame and humiliation. It makes his blood boil. 

“Oh yeah? Then why have you been hanging on these past few months? Four months and don’t even look at me. S’matter, can’t get your dick to work? Or are you just some kinda closeted fag?"

Jack is glaring at him now, all deadly furry and piercing violence in those normally serene green eyes.

“Not a fag just ‘cause I don’t fuck every used-up, loose omega ass that presents itself to me.”

“You motherfucker!” Brock screams and lunges at him. There’s clattering and banging as they wrestle and punch and scratch each other bloody. The beds skid apart and they fall to the floor in a tangled heap. Their neighbor is banging on the wall, warning them to keep it down. 

Brock and Jack wrench apart, retreat into separate corners to lick their wounds. Brock is wiping blood from his nose, thankfully it’s not broken. Jack is pawing at the finger-shaped bruises on his neck. 

And because Brock is stubborn and always has to have the last word, he spits, “I didn’t fuck any of those alphas. I…I haven’t even been with anyone in a year, asshole.”

That makes Jack look at him with surprise. In truth Brock has been so consumed by his career plans these past few years his love life and his sex drive has taken a back seat. But that doesn’t stop people from assuming things about him. 

Brock scoffs. “Whatever, people think whatever they want to think and say whatever they want to say.”

Jack heaves a heavy sigh and rubs the tension out of his temples. “Sorry I...Shouldn’t have believed those rumors. And I didn’t mean that shit I said. Was just mad.” 

“Mad about what? That I wouldn’t fuck you?” Brock sneers.

“ _No_.” Jack snips, obviously offended by such an accusation, but trying to restrain his temper. “I think I deserve to be a little upset when someone agrees to be my mate only to show up and want nothing to do with me. You always leave before me, come back after I’m in bed. You prefer to eat with your friends without me. You barely even say anything to me. And then I have to deal with all the staring and whispering and rumors around the base everyday.”

Brock flushes with shame. Jack has been nothing but patient and respectful these past few months, but Brock has barely acknowledged his existence. He rightly complained about how unfair it was for him, but didn’t think about how it might have been unfair for Jack. He could see how that could cause some resentment.

“It’s...it’s not that I don’t like you.” Brock says, “I don’t know you at all.” He gestures to the air, as if the right words are somewhere floating in the atmosphere. He’s not used to talking so earnestly. “I’m used to doing my own thing. And I’m used to alphas trying to control me.”

“I don’t want to control you.” Jack says.

“Yeah, I kinda see that.”

As far as matches go, Jack isn’t half bad. He survived this long by not interfering with Brock’s autonomy, being a considerate roommate, and at least having the balls to apologize when he’s wrong. It wouldn’t be much of a chore to give him a chance.

Brock crawls over and is quickly leaning in for a kiss that catches Jack off guard. Their lips meet softly and Jack returns his hum of pleasure. It’s nice. Brock can’t help dragging it out. It’s got to be more than a minute before their lips smack apart.

Jack reaches up and wipes away the blood above Brock’s upper lip in a wordless apology. Brock’s not the apology type, instead he just initiates another kiss, a deeper kiss, hoping Jack will get the message anyways.

“Hmm, you smell good.” Jack murmurs when they break apart. He noses at Brock’s chin, scenting him.

“You smell pretty good yourself.” Brock purrs. His hand sneaks under Jack’s shirt to caress firm abs. He bats his eyelashes because he knows it makes alphas melt, but rather than melt Jack is looking a little frazzled. 

“You wanna... _right now?_ ” He asks carefully, because he doesn’t want to assume, doesn’t want to be labeled one of those alphas who assume. And he must be having whiplash from how quickly Brock changed his tune about their relationship.

Brock nods with enthusiasm and climbs over to straddle Jack. “Yeah.” He says. It’s been _way_ too long since he’s gotten laid. And, well, he’s got a handsome alpha conveniently underneath him. He braces himself against Jack’s chest and rolls his hips in wide circles, letting the alpha’s cock drag against his and just barely tease the entrance between his cheeks through layers of fabric. 

“ _Yeah_ , want you to fuck me.” Brock smirks at the hitch in the alpha’s breath, “Want ya to knot me.”

Now _that’s_ got his mate falling apart like puddy, eyes hooded with want and hands reaching out to touch. “You want to?” Brock asks just to be cheeky. 

“Yeah? Just, I...uhh, I've never done this before.” Jack admits. At Brock’s quizzical stare, Jack sputters out a response, “I mean I’ve gotten handjobs and done some heavy petting, but never fucked anyone.” 

Brock isn’t very surprised, Jack is still young, only twenty-three, and maybe even a bit shy. He probably still believes a lot of that romantic crap about bonding and mateship and soulmates they get told as children. It’s kind of cute.

Brock peels off his shirt and tosses it away into the mess their room is now. Jack gapes at him like a fish, mesmerized by all the firm, cut muscle on him. 

Yeah, Brock thinks that it may just be the start of something.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my[ Tumblr (LeviathanHomeCooking) ](https://leviathanhomecooking.tumblr.com)


End file.
